All For One

[VoltTurtle]

((Marceline trudged through the brush of the jungle as quietly as she could manage as she scanned her surroundings, gun and knife in either hand, listening intently to the noises of her surroundings for any possible irregularities.))

The whole world might as well be against her. From now on it was do or die, kill or be killed. Nobody could be relied upon, everyone was her enemy, and one mistake could cost her everything. She had to be alert, aware, and ready to strike at any time. She would expect to receive no quarter, and would give none in return. That would be the story of her life for the coming days, there was no going back.

Speakers crackled to life as she hiked, the sound of the announcements coming from everywhere at once, as usual. Instinctively, she reached to grab her list and pencil, hesitating briefly once she realized what she was doing, but eventually deciding that it was for the best for her to continue maintaining the list. Knowing who the biggest threats were on sight was still a boon, even if she was no longer actively hunting them. The usual torrent of names came as she pocketed her weapons and began dutifully adding new tally marks to the margins, a frown creeping onto her face as classmates she knew—such as Violet, in particular—were offhandedly mentioned as having been killed. She had long since been deadened to the casual horrors of the island, but part of her couldn't help but still feel the loss of each and every voice she would never hear speak again-

She stopped suddenly when Juliette's name was mentioned, blinking in surprise as she felt her heart sink. Juliette had been killed via a danger zone, which could only mean that she had intentionally stayed inside one. She wouldn't have done so on accident, they were too easy to avoid, and she was too smart to not notice the incessant beeping. Her name being announced now meant that she had died yesterday, which could mean that Marceline had been the last person she had spoken to before it had happened. She began to wonder, had the kiss not been enough for her? Or had it simply been the last thing that Juliette wanted before her death, and once she got it she decided to go out on her own terms?

Marceline didn't know, and while she knew that Juliette had to die anyway, she still couldn't help but feel just a little guilty about it. Hearing her own name spoken next to Amelia's shortly thereafter certainly didn't help with that. She winced in response as her writing hand stilled itself, neglecting to record her own name on the list. She knew well enough that Amelia's life would forever weigh her down from now on, she didn't need her name on her own list to remind her of that fact.

Eventually the announcements would come to an end, but not before she would flinch in surprise hearing her name uttered yet again by the awful, grating voice that tormented them all every morning. She had won the murder prize, as she had called it previously. The scum that had put her here and were coercing her into killing her classmates had apparently approved of her betrayal of Amelia so much that they wanted to reward her for it. The fact that she had managed to impress the sick voyeurs running the game filled her with more shame than the actual act itself had. Not only was she playing along, she had apparently gone above and beyond the call of duty.

She sighed, before slipping the list and pencil into her pocket, her newly freed hand instinctively reaching up to tightly clutch her pendant. She knew she had to go collect her reward. Doing otherwise would be a disservice to Amelia, and to the promise she had made. She just needed to remember that she was just doing what she had to do to survive, and that it was all for her.

She squeezed the little key in her palm ever tighter. Always for her.

---

Marceline arrived at the infirmary sometime later, her skin covered in an even film of sweat. The whole time she had been navigating the area she had been anticipating her collar to start beeping at any moment, but it never actually came. She knew that had to be the case, since the prizes were always tucked away in the danger zones and the previous winners had all presumably picked them up without any issues, but she couldn't help but feel paranoid about it all the same. Her neck suddenly exploding was definitely not the way that she wanted to go.

The faint smell of corpse bile was the first sensation to greet her as she closed in on the infirmary's entrance. Two bloated, discolored bodies rested outside of the building's walls, one directly in front of it, and the other around the side, next to a broken window. They were obviously the origin of the smell, and as Marceline approached she began to faintly recognize both of them, even through the disgusting reddish black fluid coating the area around their noses and mouths. One of them was clearly one of the Hayashibara triplets, though which one of the three she could not immediately identify, as all of them were dead at this point. The other was less clearly but still recognizably Bonaventura, one of the theater kids.

The sight and smell of the corpses made her uneasy, but stumbling upon the bodies of her classmates was hardly a new experience for her, and she knew neither of them very well, so seeing them dead didn't bring her any great amount of pause. She was here for a pickup, nothing more, and nothing less. The corpses would be out of her mind in short order.

She circled the perimeter of the infirmary, hoping that she would not have to brave the inside of the building, only to see no sign of either the weapon or the food she had been promised. Grumbling to herself, she held her nose as she walked directly past the dead Hayashibara into the lobby, only for her eyes to immediately start watering as she tasted the almost-sweet and vastly more sickening smell of rot coming from within the infirmary. Two more bodies adorned the lobby, neither of them immediately recognizable to her through the obscurement of her tears, and their more advanced states of decay.

She scanned the room for her prize, doing her best to ignore both the stench and the frankly enormous amount of blood coating the walls and floor, only to come up empty again. Was it seriously deeper within? Were the terrorists actively trying to torment her by making her walk through the carnage? She wouldn't exactly put it past them to do something like that, given the fact that they regularly sent hundreds of teenagers to their deaths every few years for what she could only assume was the amusement of the rich and powerful. That would certainly explain how exactly they obtained their clearly enormous amounts of funding.

Forcing herself to bear the smell, she pinched her nose tighter, pushing past the doors into the patient ward. Once the doors shut behind her the stench became slightly more tolerable than it had been before, with yet another body resting inside the room, this one barely distinguishable as Futscher. Seeing him lying there was when it finally clicked for her. Futscher, Bonaventura, and the now-known-to-be Yuki Hayashibara were all mentioned as being victims of Stieglitz during the same announcement several days ago. They had apparently decided to stow her prize in an area where a massacre occurred.

How quaint.

Futscher was an odd one to see. She at least knew him, or rather knew of him, since he had been openly obnoxious back at George Hunter with his partner in crime, Mortimer. He was, to put it bluntly, someone that he himself likely would have described as a "beta male cuck", and Marceline had to admit that it didn't sadden her much at all to see his bloated, mangled body lying on the ground in front of her. Moving past what was left of him without another thought spared at his expense, she quickly scanned the ward for her prize, before forcing open the door in the back of the room. Sitting on the ground behind it was what looked to be a blank, flat cardboard box, a two liter bottle of Sprite, and...

Was that a sword?

She approached the sheathed blade lying on the ground, gingerly reaching down to pick it up by the strap with her free hand, examining it with incredulity. They gave her a sword as a prize? What, was she supposed to charge into battle with it? She already had a knife for that, if it came down to it! Weren't they supposed to give out guns for this? Why didn't she get another gun-

She let out a growl through clenched teeth, strongly considering just taking the food and leaving the weapon behind. They had given her a prize that was basically dead weight. They might as well have given her nothing at all, for all the good it would do for her. She couldn't believe that Amelia had died for this, this insult-

She brought the sword's point down to the ground, the sheathe banging against the hard floor. Amelia hadn't died for this specifically, she had died so Marceline could have her gun and live. She had already won the only prize she really needed, the sword was just the cherry on top. Even if it was possibly the worst weapon her captors could have given her as their farce of a prize, it could still prove useful, and she should still keep it. They had at least given her a sheathe and a strap to go along with it, so beyond being some extra weight she would have to carry, it wasn't like it would actively hinder her.

Marceline left the infirmary with her food in hand and the sword strapped to her back shortly thereafter, getting some distance between herself and the building before she finally allowed herself to take a breath of fresh air and rest. Sitting down, she eagerly threw open the lid to the box, briefly marveling at the sight and aroma of the first real food she had seen in well over a week. It wasn't long thereafter that she started digging in, relishing every single bite of the lukewarm, spicy pizza as she greedily stuffed it down her gullet. After days of eating nothing but stale bread, dry protein bars, and overdone goat meat, the taste of the pizza brought her the first bits of genuine joy she had felt ever since Dolly had died, and she cherished every moment, knowing that it wouldn't last.

When the box finally lay empty, and she had eaten her fill, she only found herself wanting more. Alas, the moment had passed, now all that was left of her prize were the lemon-lime soda, and of course, the sword. Now that she had gotten the chance to cool her head, she unstrapped the sword from her back, resting the sheathed blade in her lap. The sheathe had a surprisingly intricate design, being made of some kind of black leather and adorned on its edges with a golden trim. The blade itself was no slouch either in terms of looks, once she removed it from its sheathe. The sword appeared to be over two and a half feet long, and the steel it was forged from had been shined to a mirror polish. It was double-edged, both frighteningly sharp, and its tip was flat and rounded, instead of coming to a point. Feeling the blade's weight in her hands, it almost felt more like she was holding an axe than a sword, which she supposed made sense. The rounded tip suggested the blade was for chopping, and not stabbing.

Satisfied with her examination, she strapped the empty sheathe back onto her person and stood back up, before giving the blade a few exploratory swings with both hands. If she was going to make use of it, she would need at least need to know how to, and unfortunately her dad hadn't taught her how to use a sword like he had guns and knives. Still, she knew enough about the basics of close quarters combat to make use of it, and if she had to, she could presumably treat it as if it were just a very big knife.

She continued testing the weapon, throwing more and more of her body weight into each successive swing, appreciating the raw force behind the blade as it satisfyingly swished through the air. Eventually, though, her arms and back began to feel fatigued, and she figured that was enough, for now. Sheathing the sword and readjusting the strap, Marceline picked up the two liter of soda sitting on the ground next to her and took a swig, letting out a satisfied sigh in response to the comforting fizz and sweetness of the lemon-lime soda. It was time for her to head out. She knew that she wouldn't be able to remain here indefinitely, and that her captors would likely tire of her dawdling sooner or later.

((With that, she began to saunter away from the infirmary, and back into the island at large.))